The Melody Within
by PhantomessAbigail
Summary: Emily finds a man wearing a mask, dying in an alley. She takes him home and...
1. A Moonlit Stroll

Authors Note: Hi. First of all, this is my first fic. Please let me know how I've done. And also let me know if I should continue or not. Thank you.  
  
I've taken my version of the story from many of the Phantom of the Opera stories I know. Susan Kay's, Gaston Leroux's, Andrew Lloyd-Webber, Yeston and Kopit's, the Silent Film and the TV Miniseries. I haven't taken anything from some of those, but inspiration for Erik.  
  
I don't have a title yet, so if you have any ideas, I would be very much obliged for them. Thank you.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. Honestly, I don't know who does at present time. I'd like to think Gaston Leroux still owns it. The song Let Me In is from the movie Rigoletto, by the Family Films Foundation.  
  
Things in // are italics. I mostly use italics for thoughts. Anything in-between }{ is sung.  
  
~~~  
  
Chapter One, A Moonlit Stroll  
  
Emily Claira Lamb walked down the still-moist pathway, watching the stars. It was one of the most beautiful autumn nights she had seen in all of her sixteen years of life. It was a beautiful night as it had been a beautiful day. Emily started humming her favorite song as she re-checked her basket. Had she gotten everything?  
  
Four apples, a loaf of bread, an apple pie and a new book. Yes, she had gotten everything. Her white horse, Ivory, neighed to let Emily know that she was getting tired.  
  
"We're almost home, Ivory." Emily told her as she looked around. No one was around, as far as she could see, so she began singing.  
  
"}I love the part in fairy tales that's very near the end. When all the Kingdom cheers for their new Queen. And all is good, and all is well, and everyone belongs. And happily they're ever-aftering. But when I enter the Kingdom of Dreams and face the promise of all I can be, will they see me as a heroine? Tell me, will they let me in?  
  
And if a hearts breaking and part of me's aching to show them how much that I care. But if no one let's me or turns and forgets me then how, how can I share?  
  
There is a part in fairy tales that's very near the end. The princess and the prince proclaim they're love. And hearts are healed, and souls are changed and two blend into one. All orchestrated by the stars above. But when I come to the door of my dreams and face a lonely heart calling for me I could fill that emptiness within if that heart would let me in.  
  
Won't someone let me in?{"  
  
/What's that sound?/ Emily wondered, hearing a rustle of /something/ in an ally. She wandered in carefully.  
  
"Hello? Is anyone there?" she asked the darkness. Wait. There, a flash of white. There was a moan of pain. /Someone/ was hurt.  
  
"Hello? Are you alright?" She cautiously walked up to the figure of someone on the ground, Ivory neighing in protest.  
  
"Shh, Ivory. I think someones hurt."  
  
She reached her hand out and hesitantly touched the person. Whoever it was was wrapped in a rich black cloak.  
  
"Are you alright? Should I get a doctor?" she asked.  
  
Receiving no answer, she gently tried to push the person over to the she could see their face. Ivory walked over and helped.  
  
"Thank you, Ivory." She said when the now-unconscious person was on his back. What Emily saw was a man in evening dress wearing a full black mask. He had a terrible knife wound near his heart.  
  
"Oh, goodness. Ivory! Let me put this man on you. We need to get home, quickly!" As Ivory bent down Emily (with some trouble) managed to get the man onto Ivory's back and began leading the horse quickly back to her small house on the outskirts of Paris.  
  
~~~  
  
Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think. And, in case you wanted to know, here's a little information on Emily:  
  
She's English She had golden blonde hair She had gray eyes She's about 5'5" At that time she was wearing a white-and-light-blue dress. I assume everyone has seen The Beauty and the Beast? I could only match her voice closely to Belle's.  
  
Once again, thank you for reading, and please review me and let me know if I should continue.  
  
Roses,  
  
PhantomessAbigail 


	2. The Guest Awakens

A/N: Hello again. I'm so glad you wanted me to continue! Please let me know if I should still continue, which means please continue reviewing.  
  
I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. I don't know who does, other then the fact that they will forever officially belong to Gaston Leroux as of the fact he created them. The Melody Within is from Rigoletto, made by the Family Films Foundation.  
  
Thank you, reviewers, and critizim is appreciated.  
  
As usual anything within these: will mean italics, which are mostly used for thoughts. Anything within there: }{ will mean the words are sung.  
  
Please enjoy.  
  
~  
  
}"Music boxes have within melodies they carry with them. Once they open music fills the air.  
  
"Ev'ry person you have known has a song of their own. Once they open up you'll see what's there.  
  
"It's not easy, you music listen with you're heart for what lies hidden. I had a melody locked deep inside of me, but now it's free. It found a place embraced by harmony, sweet harmony.  
  
Love, more then anything, teaches out hearts to sing, only love could break the spell. Now I know very well the love within myself. "{ Emily finished her light song and noticed the man stirring on her couch. She continued dusting and humming her song.  
  
The man awoke to that sound and the sight of a lovely young lady skipping around in her white dress, humming to herself.  
  
Just then the pain in his side hit, making him close his eyes and groan in pain.  
  
"Oh! You're awake. Hello. Now that you're awake, I'm going to go fetch a doctor. I didn't know what to do, so all I did was clean it and put some cloth on it to soak the blood." Said the girl, referring to the wound with a heavy English accent.  
  
"N...no." the man managed to get out.  
  
"No what?" the girl said absent mindedly, looking in a trunk for her cloak.  
  
"No...no doctor. No...one." He said.  
  
"What do you mean 'No doctor'? If I don't get you a doctor you'll probably die." She said, now looking up at him from searching for her lost cloak.  
  
"No...please. No one."  
  
"I /have/ to get you a doctor, alright? You go back to sleep while I go get one." She said then frustratingly closed the trunk, having no luck with the cloak, and left.  
  
***  
  
"So you don't know who this man is at all?" the doctor asked, changing the man's bandage again on the fourth hour.  
  
"No. I found him in an ally. I don't know what happened or anything."  
  
"You said he woke up before you left?"  
  
"Yes. He told me he didn't want me to get a doctor. Or anyone, for that matter."  
  
"Perhaps it was an attempt at suicide?"  
  
"I don't know why, but he doesn't seem the type to commit suicide."  
  
"Why do you say that?"  
  
"I don't know. He just...doesn't seem the type."  
  
"Yes...well, just remember to change the bandage every hour and clean the wound with this every two hours." The Doctor said, handing her a bottle of clear liquid.  
  
"Alright. Thank you, Doctor."  
  
"I'll be back in a few days to check on him, Mademoiselle. Good day." He said, then left.  
  
Emily sighed and looked at the old grandfather clock on the far wall. Her little sister, Emma Lee, would be back soon. Hopefully before the man woke up so she could describe the situation.  
  
Unfortunately, the man started to wake up a moment later.  
  
"Oh, are you alright? The doctor's already came and went."  
  
The man seemed to be more together this time, though shocked.  
  
"I'm...alright, mademoiselle. I...wonder though, where am... I?"  
  
"Oh, yes. You're at my house, right on the outskirts of Paris."  
  
"And...who are you?"  
  
"Oh, Emily Lamb." Emily spoke in French still.  
  
"You are...you are English?" he asked in her native tongue.  
  
"Yes." She said, surprised.  
  
"What are...you doing...in France?"  
  
"Oh...um, visiting my mother." Emily said.  
  
"Ah... yes." Was all he said.  
  
"Well, um...what is your name?" she asked.  
  
Unexpectedly, he began to laugh humorlessly.  
  
"Why?" he asked, before beginning to cough.  
  
She went and got him a glass of water before answering,  
  
"Because you know mine, and since you're going to be stuck here for a while I'd like to know who I'm talking to."  
  
He paused to take a sip of the water.  
  
"Erik."  
  
"Erik?"  
  
"Erik."  
  
"Pleasure to meet you, then, Erik."  
  
He paused, this time without taking a drink.  
  
"...Pleasure."  
  
~~~  
  
Thank you, again, for reading. Please let me know what you think of it. In the next chapter Emma Lee will show up, shaped after my own little sister. Happy Birthday, Em.  
  
The title of this story is subject to change.  
  
Thank you and please review.  
  
Roses,  
  
PhantomessAbigail 


	3. Emma Lee

A/n: Yay! I've just seen this story is on someone's favorites list...thank you, AquaMoon!  
  
Thank you, also, T.P.P., for letting me know Erik was OCC. I sort of realized that after I put it up, but, well...I guess it's sort of my interpretation of how Erik was at the moment.  
  
I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, and I do not know who does.  
  
Anything within // are italics, mostly used for thought.  
  
Anything within }{ is sung.  
  
Please enjoy.  
  
~  
  
Chapter Three, Emma Lee Lamb  
  
"I'm home! I'm back! I'm home!" came a cheery five-year-old voice running up to the door.  
  
"Shhh, Emma!"  
  
"Whose that?" Emma asked, once inside.  
  
"I found him lying in an alley. He was nearly dead. Quiet now, he's asleep."  
  
"Oh. Sorry."  
  
Emma Lee was a cute little girl at the age of five-almost-six. She had golden blonde curls and big brown eyes. She was almost an exact copy of her big sister.  
  
"How is Abby and Hannah?"  
  
"They're good. I'm gonna go up to my room now and unpack."  
  
"Hurry, then, Emma, supper is almost ready."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Emily watched her little sister skip across the room, holding as tight as she could to her small carpet bag, and slowly head upstairs.  
  
/She's always so happy, so sweet, so innocent...she has never understood what happened./ Emily thought.  
  
"How old is she?" came a voice from the couch.  
  
Emily turned her head to face Erik.  
  
"She's five. Almost six." Emily responded. "I'm sorry, did she wake you up?"  
  
"No, no she did not."  
  
"Good."  
  
There was silence until a loud SMASH! from upstairs.  
  
"Emma?! Are you okay?!" Emily yelled from downstairs.  
  
"Yeah! But I think we might need a new lamp in my room!" Emma yelled down. Emily groaned and rolled her eyes. But of course she couldn't blame her sister. She had been the same way not to long ago. In fact, it was just yesterday afternoon she had dropped their last good china teacup.  
  
Erik was laughing softly. Emily was about to remark that he must be feeling better but she then realized the smoke coming out of the kitchen.  
  
"Oopes!" she shouted and ran in and took the frying pan off the stove as quickly as she could. She then waited for the now black strips of chicken to cool, then threw them away. She then started some eggs.  
  
When she finally had an opportunity to walk back into the living room she groaned again. He had gotten Emma talking.  
  
"-and then Abby told Hannah not to, but she did anyway, and she twisted her wrist really bad and had to go to a doctor but Abby didn't go with her because she had to go to work and noted that Emily didn't have a job yet and seemed mean about it so I told her that when Emily decided to she could have a better job then Abby but then I got in trouble and got put in a corner until Papa came home because Abby forgot to let me off the corner before she went to work, and then Hannah and I, because Hannah's wrist was a bit better, went and started to draw but then we lost our pencil and had to go ask Papa for one but he was reading and we didn't want to bother him so we went outside again and played until Abby came home and told us to come in and then she went upstairs and went to sleep without eating and-" it was there she took a breath.  
  
"Emma?"  
  
"Yes, Emily?"  
  
"Take a breath more often."  
  
Emma smiled. "Yes, Emily."  
  
Erik was sitting up a bit and seemed to have been listening intently. Emily was grateful. Most of the time people would brush Emma off or say 'Children are meant to be seen, not heard'.  
  
"Alright, it's time to eat." Emily said.  
  
~  
  
The next chapter will be a bit longer and better, I just ran out of tings to say for this chapter. Please review. Thank those who already have reviewed.  
  
Roses,  
  
PhantomessAbigail 


	4. The Highway Man

A/n: (I don't know how it's happened, but somehow when I uploaded this it uploaded oddly. If you know how to fix this problem, please let me know. Thank you.)  
  
Hi everyone. Sorry I've been gone so long, I've been busy writing a story for a contest with my friends.  
I realize that some of my grammar was not good in Emma's 'talk-a-thon', but I gave /my/ little sister Emma a topic and told her to start talking and that's what she came out with (more or less).  
  
Thank you SO much reviewers! I'm so happy.  
  
I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. 'The Highway Man' is written by Alfred Noyes, but the song is from a sort of...Celtic, I suppose?...singer of whose name I don't remember. If you remember please let me know!  
  
Anyway, I'll just continue with the story.  
  
~  
  
Chapter Three: The Highwayman  
  
Emily pulled the blanket further up. No, it was hopeless. She wasn't going to get any more sleep.  
She sighed and got out of bed. She put her old slippers on, put on her robe, and headed downstairs as quietly as she could so she wouldn't wake their guest. She walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of milk. She drunk half of it then set it down and walked over to the piano and sat on the bench. She glanced over at the man on her couch. He seemed to be fast asleep. She looked through the few bits of paper on the piano and took out a few that had been sewn together. She carefully looked over it. She went through each page, and every once in a while changed something here and there.  
  
"What is that?" came a harsh, beautiful whisper from behind her on the couch.  
  
"What? Oh, just a song I've been writing for about...what, five years? I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Emily asked, whispering.  
  
"No, no, not at all."  
  
"Good."  
  
BOOM, BOOM, BAM! Came from upstairs.  
  
"Emma? Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah! I just tripped!"  
  
Emily rolled her eyes.  
  
"What are you doing up?"  
  
"I can't sleep!"  
  
"Come downstairs then!"  
  
Emma came skipping down the stairs a moment later.  
  
"Hi!" Emma cheerfully said to Erik.  
  
"Hello." He said.  
  
"Em'ly?"  
  
"Yes, Emma?"  
  
"Can you sing?"  
  
Emily blushed and turned back to the piano.  
  
"Not right now, Emma."  
  
"Why not?" Emma complained.  
  
Emily was sure they could see her shaking. /Sing in front of a stranger? I couldn't!/ her mind shouted.  
  
"Because...my throat hurts right now."  
  
"No, it doesn't!"  
  
"How would you know?"  
  
"I just do!"  
  
Emily groaned.  
  
"C'mon! Pleeease?" Emma asked. Emily turned and looked at her. Emma had knelt beside the bench, rested her elbows on it, clasped her hands and was giving her best 'puppy-dog look'.  
/Must...resist...must...re...sist./ she thought.  
  
She failed.  
  
"Alright, fine."  
  
Emma jumped up.  
  
"Yay!"  
  
Emily looked over at Erik.  
  
"Do you mind?"  
  
"Not at all, go ahead."  
  
Emma took out the bit of music she had been working on. She took a few breaths to hopefully calm herself, and began.  
  
"}The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, And the highwayman came riding- Riding-riding- The highwayman came riding up to the old inn-door.  
  
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin, a coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin; They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh! And he rode with a jeweled twinkle, His pistol butts a-twinkle, His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.  
  
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard, And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred; He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed daughter, Bess, the landlords daughter, Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.  
  
And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked; His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like moldy hay, But he loved the landlord's daughter, The landlord's red-lipped daughter, Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say-  
  
'One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night, But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light; Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day, Then look for me by the moonlight, Watch for me by the moonlight, I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way'  
  
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand, But she loosened her hair I' the casement! His face burnt like a brand As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast; And he kissed its waves in the moonlight, (Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!) Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.  
  
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon; And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon, When the road was a gipsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor, A red-coat troop came marching- Marching-marching King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.  
  
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead, But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed; Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side! There was death at every window; And hell at one dark window; For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that /he/ would ride.  
  
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest; They had bound a musket beside her, with the muzzle beneath her breast! 'Now keep good watch!' and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say- /Look for me by the moonlight; Watch for me by the moonlight; I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way!/  
  
She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good! She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood! They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years, Till, now, on the stroke of midnight, Cold, on the stroke of midnight, The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!  
  
The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest! Up, she stood to attention, with the muzzle beneath her breast, She would not risk their hearing: she would not strive again; For the road lay bare in the moonlight; Blank and bare in the moonlight; And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain.  
  
/Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot!/ Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear; /Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot,/ in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?  
  
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill, The highwayman came riding, Riding, riding! The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still! /Tlot-tlot,/ in the frosty silence! /Tlot-tlot,/ in the echoing night! Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light! Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath, Then her finger moved in the moonlight, Her musket shattered the moonlight, Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him- With her death.  
  
He turned; he spurred to the Westward; he did not know who stood Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood! Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew gray to hear How Bess, the landlord's daughter, The landlord's black-eyed daughter, Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.  
  
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky, With white road smoking behind him, and his rapier brandished high! Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat, When they shot him down on the highway, Down like a dog on the highway, And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.  
  
/And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees, When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, A highway man comes riding- Riding-riding- A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.  
  
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard; And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred; He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed daughter, Bess, the landlord's daughter, Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair./{"  
  
Emily looked to see Emma curled up on the old Persian rug, asleep. Emily smiled and picked her sister up, and carried her upstairs to her bed. She pulled the thin blanket over her, kissed her cheek, and went back downstairs.  
  
"That was quite a lovely song. Where did you hear it?" Erik asked.  
  
"I wrote it. My sister used to scare us with her ghost stories-she had tried to convince us this is the inn. She had me rather convinced, actually. That's where I got the idea for the song." Emily said, sitting back down on the bench. /Just ask...what could it hurt? You saved his life, remember, he at least owes you an explanation!/ a voice from within Emily said.  
/Well...okay./ Emily thought.  
  
"Um...if you don't mind, how /did/ you get injured in the first place?" Emily asked.  
  
There was a short pause.  
  
"A man told me to empty my pockets. I refused. He drew a knife and-before I had time to react- drove it into me. He was not able, however, to get to my pockets so he turned and ran." Erik told her.  
  
"Oh." Was all Emily could say.  
  
There was a long stretch of silence before,  
  
"It is very late, Mademoiselle, perhaps you should be in bed?"  
  
"I usually get a rather bad case of insomnia."  
  
The man seemed to have been thinking for a moment.  
  
"May I have my cloak?" he asked, glancing at it. Emily remembered taking it off and draping it over a chair before getting him onto the couch. She walked over and got it then turned and handed it to him.  
  
"Thank you." He said then reached into it. He pulled out a small vial of some sort of liquid.  
  
"If you pour half this into the rest of your milk and drink it I assure you that you will be able to sleep."  
  
Emily took the vial and glanced at it, then walked into the kitchen. An alarm was going off in her head while she was pouring half the vials contents into what was left of her milk, but Emily pushed it away.  
  
/I saved his life, he has no reason to want to hurt me...it's obvious, if he wanted to steal things, that I don't have much of value and if he did he would have done so already.../  
  
She drunk the milk-and-liquid mixture and placed the cup in the sink. By the time she handed the vile back her eyelids were already drooping.  
  
"Thank you." She said.  
  
"Goodnight, Mademoiselle."  
  
"G'night." She said, and went upstairs.  
  
As soon as she had curled into a ball under her blanket, she was asleep.  
  
~  
  
Hopefully each chapter will get better. Most of this chapter was The Highwayman (which happens to be my favorite poem). Thank you to all those of you who have had the patience to read this far. Please review, and thank you so much to those of you who have already done so.  
  
Roses,  
  
PhantomessAbigail 


	5. Auditions

A/n: Hi all. I've won our little contest...perhaps I'll post our stories on Fiction Press sometime. What do you think?  
  
I've just noticed that I've numbered two chapters 'Chapter Three'...I'll go back and fix that soon!  
  
Once again, I would like to thank my reviewers. Next chapter I shall have a list of them.  
  
I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor do I own the song Candle on the Water. I do not know who owns Phantom, but Disney, however, owns Candle on the Water. Candle on the Water is from the movie Pete's Dragon.  
  
I do not know how auditions at an Opera house truly work, or anything about French currency, so it's all just guess-work.  
  
Oh, by the way, I've decided to use // for italics. I saw it in a number of fanfics, and decided it would work better then the way I'd been doing it.  
  
Please enjoy.  
  
~  
  
Chapter Five, Auditions  
  
Emily sighed and opened her eyes. Had she ever had a better nights sleep? She pulled the blanket off of her, and sat up. She glanced around he small, humble room and sighed again. From the way the sunlight came through the window, you could almost feel as if you were in heaven. It was going to be a beautiful day.  
  
Emily got up and walked over to a small wooden chair in her room. On it was a small pile of clothes. She pulled out a short-sleeved lavender one, took off her nightgown, and put it on, humming Let Me In. She opened her door after turning off her gas lamp, and went downstairs.  
She opened her mouth to greet her guest, only to find he wasn't there.  
  
"Monsieur?" she asked, looking around. She glanced into the kitchen, but he wasn't in there. She went upstairs and searched everywhere, being careful not to wake Emma. He was no where to be found. She searched the extremely small garden in the back and the front, but he was no where to be found.  
  
She finally glanced at the piano after coming back inside. There was a note written in the ink she used to write letters to her sisters. She picked the note up, and found, surprisingly, fifty francs behind it. After marveling over them, she read the note.  
  
/Mademoiselle Lamb,  
  
Please accept this as my payment and thanks for all your help. I hope that one day our paths may cross once again.  
  
And if I may leave you a bit of advice, try searching for work at the Opera.  
  
Erik/  
  
Emily set the note aside. So, her guest was gone. Emma would not be happy.  
  
/The Opera?/ Emily thought. She'd would have never /dreamed/ of trying to work there. Not only was her voice not quite good enough, but there...well, she would most certainly never fit in.  
  
"Em'ly? Where's Erik?" came a sleepy voice.  
  
"I think he went home, Emma."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Emily smiled.  
  
"He probably had a family or someone wanting him back. Besides, Emma, he couldn't stay here forever."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because...because he has his own life to lead, his own home. People who counted on him. He needed to go home."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Okay, Emma, now you're trying to be annoying."  
  
"Yes, I am." Emma said giggling. Emily picked up the money again, and took a piece of pottery from a shelf to put it in.  
  
"Why'd he go without saying goodbye?"  
  
"I don't know, Emma."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"He gave this to us. It's money. We're going to save it, for just in case."  
  
"Okay." Emma said, coming down the stairs.  
  
"Will we talk to him again?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Alright."  
  
Emma sat on the couch, and Emily went to get a broom to sweep up the remains of the piece of pottery.  
  
"Are you gonna visit Mama soon?"  
  
"Yes, Emily."  
  
"Can I come?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Yay!"  
  
Emily began thinking.  
  
/Well...maybe I can get a minor job there. Like cleaning or something. I have rather gotten used to sweeping after breaking so many things in my life./ Emily thought about that for a moment. /And to be near all that music...oh! Yet it would be torture, not to able to sing with them. But perhaps by observing I can learn how to sing correctly. Wouldn't that be wonderful?/  
  
While daydreaming, Emily was not watching what she was doing and bumped into a picture on the wall, and that fell, smashing the glass in the frame. Emily sighed.  
  
At least she was used to this.  
  
***  
  
Emily knocked timidly on the door, after telling Emma not to make a sound and not to disturb anyone in the hallway.  
  
"Come in." came a sharp voice from inside the manager's office.  
  
"Pardon me, Monsieur," Emily said, closing the door behind her, "My name is Emily Lamb and-"  
  
"Yes, Mademoiselle Lamb, we got the letter. What are you auditioning with?" a rather plump man said.  
  
"Pardon me? I didn't-"  
  
"Your song, Mademoiselle?" asked a small, frail looking man.  
  
"Well...I wasn't really expecting-"  
  
"Please, do not waste our time, Mademoiselle Lamb." The plump man said sharply.  
  
"Well...the Candle on the Water." Emily said, confused still, but giving in.  
  
"Begin, then." The plump man said impatiently.  
  
"}I'll be your Candle on the Water.  
  
My love for you will always burn.  
  
I know you're lost, and drifting.  
  
But the clouds are lifting.  
  
Don't give up, you have somewhere to turn.  
  
I'll be you're Candle on the Water.  
  
'Til ev'ry wave is warm and bright.  
  
My soul is there, beside you,  
  
Let this Candle guide you.  
  
Soon you'll see a golden stream of light.  
  
A cold and friendless tide has found you.  
  
Don't let the stormy darkness pull you down.  
  
I'll paint a ray of hope around you,  
  
Circling in the air,  
  
Lighted by a prayer.  
  
I'll be your Candle on the Water.  
  
This flame inside of me will grow.  
  
Keep holding on, you'll make it.  
  
Here's my hand, so take it.  
  
Look for me, reaching out to show,  
  
As sure as rivers flow,  
  
I'll never let you go.  
  
I'll never let you go.  
  
I'll never let you go.{"  
  
The managers paused.  
  
"Alright then, choir ought to do." The plump man said.  
  
The frail man said something, and both looked upset. The frail man took out a piece of paper and handed it to Emily.  
  
"Please sign this." He said.  
  
Emily took the piece of paper and the pen the man had handed her, read the contact, then signed it. As she handed it back, she thought (with wonder)-  
  
/Well, It's official now. I work at the Opera./  
  
"Very good." The plump man said, looking it over. "You begin in tomorrow at seven AM. Go to the stage."  
  
"Yes, Monsieur."  
  
"You are free to leave now, Mademoiselle." The frail man said.  
  
"Yes, Monsieur." She said, and turned to leave.  
  
"Wait, Monsieur?" she asked.  
  
"Yes?" the plump man said, testily.  
  
"I was wondering rather I could see the letter?"  
  
"No, Mademoiselle." The frail one said quickly.  
  
"Oh...alright." Emily said, and walked out.  
  
"Well? Well? Well?" Emma asked.  
  
"I'm in the choir." Emma said, shocked.  
  
"YAY!" Emma shouted.  
  
"Shh, Emma! Honestly, sometimes you are far to energetic for your own good!" Emily said with a smile.  
  
"Mama said that about you."  
  
"Well...yes, she did." Emily said, surprised Emma could remember.  
  
"Can we go see Mama now?"  
  
"Alright." Emily said. "But first let's get some flowers for her."  
  
"Okay." Emma said happily.  
  
They walked outside, got Ivory, and then went shopping for flowers.  
  
They found beautiful tiger lilies. Mama's favorites.  
  
~  
  
Well, yet another short chapter, but I think I'm going to start working on the next one already. I hope you enjoyed it! Please review!  
  
Oh, yes, and my friends thought this was Firmin and Andre. They, indeed, are not. They are my own creation. Firmin and Andre have resigned, tired of the Phantom. And who can blame them?  
  
Roses,  
  
PhantomessAbigail 


	6. In The Graveyard

A/n: Thank you for reading this far! Please continue!  
  
Reviewers:  
  
AquaMoon: Don't worry, I'm obsessed with exclamation marks, too. I /am/ trying to get my chapters longer, though this one won't be. Thank you for reading!  
  
Rain drops on Roses: Yes, Rigoletto is another one of my obsessions! Yes, I'm thinking about editing to try and get the description into the Chapter. And Emily is a little too trusting for her own good...thank you for the review!  
  
RubyMoon2: Thank you! It is a little odd, isn't it? Let me know when you continue 'Locked Within Myself!'  
  
Mena1: Don't worry, as long as I keep getting good reviews, I won't stop! Thanks!  
  
The Phantom Parisienne: Thank you! I love getting criticism...at least when I need it!  
  
Stemwinder: Yes...I meant 'oil lamp'. Though I think I recently said 'gas lamp'...by the way, please hurry with 'Deeper Then All Roses'! Thank you!  
  
Erin: Oh, that sounds /so/ cool! Thank you so much!  
  
Laura: I'll be adding what he thought later! As for Emma hearing Erik...thank you for reviewing!  
  
I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor the song 'Home', which is from Yeston and Kopit's Phantom.  
  
~*~ means the start and end of a flashback.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
~  
  
Chapter Six: In The Graveyard  
  
"I've missed you so much, Mama." Emily said, fighting back tears. Emma was off somewhere, putting grass and wildflowers onto the graves that had no flowers, pulling out weeds and so forth. Emily attempted to choke back the on-coming tears.  
  
~*~  
  
"Emily! Emily, get back into bed." A woman with lightly curly nut-brown hair and gray eyes said, smiling.  
  
"Alright." Said a three-year-old Emily, sighing and climbing back into her bed.  
  
"Want me to sing you a lullaby?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"Alright, alright!" the woman said, laughing. "What do you want me to sing?"  
  
"The song about the music place!"  
  
"Alright, but I have one condition."  
  
"What?"  
  
The woman jumped up and started to tickle Emily.  
  
"No! No! Mama! Stop!" Emily shouted between laughs.  
  
"Alright, now, I'll stop." The woman said, sitting into a chair.  
  
"Sing!" Emily begged.  
  
"Alright." The woman said, and began.  
  
~*~  
  
"I'm home...wherever music plays, and I'm home...where a thousand..." Emily sung between sobs, but she could not sing anymore. She leaned against the grave. She felt Emma reach for her hand, and Emily leaned back and pulled Emma on her lap, folding her arms around Emma.  
  
"You miss Mother, don't you?" Emma said.  
  
"Yes, I do."  
  
Emma shook her head. "I can hardly remember her."  
  
"I know, Emma, I know." Emily said.  
  
Emma kissed her sister on the cheek, then stood up to run and find more wildflowers. Emily stood up and began walking around the Graveyard. One grave caught her eye.  
  
"Daee'...where have I heard that name before?" Emily wondered, searching her memory. She had met someone named Daee'...with her mother. Where was it...?  
  
"Emily? Can we go home now?" she heard Emma ask, tugging her skirt.  
  
"Yes, Emma. We can go home now."  
  
"Emily?"  
  
"Yes, Emma?"  
  
"Can you sing for me on the way home?"  
  
Emily looked up and down the street. There was no one in sight.  
  
"Alright."  
  
"Yay!"  
  
"Shhh, now.  
  
}All my life I've been waiting,  
  
In my mind in a rocking chair,  
  
For my fancy to take the air,  
  
I would know the time.  
  
Tick and tock went my childhood,  
  
Father said I would know the place  
  
Skin would tingle and pulse would race  
  
As they do, it's here  
  
I'm home  
  
Where music fills the air  
  
And I'm home where a thousand lovers cry,  
  
Swoon and sigh,  
  
And I'm home  
  
Where ev'ry violin  
  
Plays a treat as sweet  
  
As a honeycomb.  
  
Where ever music plays, I know  
  
I'm home.  
  
Here, where fables come alive,  
  
Year by year, we forget our troubled nights,  
  
Under lights,  
  
And each tear becomes a gentle tune,  
  
Or duet kept straight  
  
By a metronome.  
  
And if I'm singing, then I know,  
  
I'm home.  
  
Where ev'ry English horn makes me feel glad I'm born  
  
And ev'ry woodwind trill excites a thrill that's new.  
  
The giant contrabass, the great soprano's face  
  
Combine to make a perfect world,  
  
Far better then what's outside.  
  
Dreams, I've lived within my dreams,  
  
now it seems  
  
I've awakened and their real,  
  
Pinch and feel!  
  
If one day,  
  
I walk upon this stage, from these wings  
  
And play underneath this dome.  
  
And if I sing with  
  
All my heart!  
  
I'll be home!{"  
  
Emily and Emma walked into their house, not seeing the shadow watching them.  
  
~  
  
Thank you for reading! Please review.  
  
Roses,  
  
PhantomessAbigail 


	7. The Phantom of the Opera

A/n: Sorry it's been so long! I'm on vacation visiting My Aunt and Uncle and three cousins. That's all the excuse I have.  
  
Well, I don't own The Phantom of the Opera, and I shall simply say Gaston Leroux does. He created it, after all. I'm also not entirely sure on the words- I can't find the lyrics to this version. But it's still my favorite. ^_^  
  
// = Italics and thoughts ^^ = Italics within thoughts }{ = sung  
  
And sorry, this is a very, VERY short chapter. And it gets...um...a little odd.  
  
~  
  
Chapter Seven (I believe.): The Phantom of the Opera  
  
Piano echoed in the darkness. Yet no one heard its notes. Not a soul in the world would dare enter the Phantom of the Opera's lair.  
  
An angelic voice joined.  
  
"} Night-time sharpens, heightens each sensation.  
  
Darkness wakes and stirs imagination.  
  
Silently the senses abandon their defenses  
  
Helpless to resist the notes I write.  
  
For I compose the Music of the night.  
  
"} Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor  
  
Grasp it, sense it tremulous and tender  
  
Hearing is believing, music is deceiving  
  
Hard as lightning, soft as candlelight.  
  
Dare you trust the Music of the Night?  
  
"} Close your eyes, for your eyes will only tell the truth,  
  
And the truth isn't what you want to see.  
  
In the dark it is easy to pretend  
  
That the truth is what it ought to be.  
  
"} Softly, deftly, music shall caress you,  
  
Hear it, feel it, secretly posses you.  
  
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind,  
  
In this darkness which you know you cannot fight,  
  
The darkness of the Music of the Night.  
  
"} Close your eyes, start a journey through a strange, new world  
  
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before.  
  
Close your eyes, and let music set you free!  
  
Only then can you belong to me.  
  
"} Floating, falling, sweet intoxication.  
  
Touch me, trust me.  
  
Savor each sensation.  
  
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in,  
  
To the power of the music that I write,  
  
The Power of the Music of the Night.  
  
"} You alone can make my song take flight.  
  
Help me make the Music of the Night.{"  
  
A figure stood and stepped away from the piano.  
  
The girl had taken the job. What next?  
  
/^Nothing^ next! There is no 'next'! She has a job at the Opera now. Time to just wait for her to forget me. It won't take to long.../ he folded his arms. Why did that thought bother him?  
  
/Yes, very good, Erik! You're thinking about becoming her friend, aren't you? Fool! You don't need human companionship./ a voice he had so often heard in his life told him.  
  
/No, I've told myself that. It hasn't been true. It still isn't./  
  
/There's still Nadir./  
  
/First of all, speaking with Nadir for an hour every two weeks is hardly 'companionship', and secondly, Nadir has left for the next month./  
  
/You can certainly handle being alone for a month! You've done it before./  
  
/That's beside the point. I don't understand why, I wish I didn't, but...I ^ need ^ a friend. I'm a human being! Just like any other human being, and at last I am admitting it./  
  
/And what reason does she have to befriend you? Don't bother. Trust me. Have I ever been wrong?/  
  
Erik thought for a moment.  
  
/Yes, you have./ and he silenced that voice for the first time.  
  
So, how did one go about becoming friends?  
  
~  
  
I'm sorry! I warned you it was short and got odd! I should have said 'very odd'. But things like that have happened to me before. RubyMoon2 claims it's because I have people living in my head, and who knows? Maybe she's right. ~_^  
  
Thank you for reading so far. I promise the next chapter will be better!  
  
Roses,  
  
PhantomessAbigail 


	8. No Title

A/n: I have some free time, so why not write?  
  
I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor do I own 'A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief'. Let's say Gaston Leroux owns Phantom, but I cannot tell who owns the song. I found it in my (LDS) Hymnbook.  
  
As last time:  
  
// = italics and thoughts  
  
^^ = italics within thoughts  
  
}{ = sung  
  
And, like last time, this chapter shall be rather short (Sorry).  
  
~  
  
Chapter Eight: No title as of yet, ideas appreciated.  
  
Emily had taken a second job cleaning at the Opera. She left Emma with her cousin, Mary.  
  
Suddenly a tune from a song her Mother used to sing came into her head while she scrubbed the floor.  
  
"} A poor wayfaring Man of grief Hath often crossed me on  
  
My way,  
  
Who sued so humbly for relief that I could never answer nay.  
  
I had not pow'r to ask his name, Whereto he went, or whence he came;  
  
Yet there was something in his eye that won my love;  
  
I knew not why.  
  
"} Once, when my scanty meal was spread, He entered not a word  
  
He spake,  
  
Just perishing for want of bread. I gave him all; he blessed it break  
  
And ate, but gave me part again. Mine was an angel's potion then,  
  
For while I fed with eager haste,  
  
The crust was manna to my taste.  
  
"} I spied him where a fountain burst Clear from the rock; his strength  
  
Was gone.  
  
The heedless water mocked his thirst; He heard it, saw it hurrying on.  
  
I ran and raised the suff'rer up; Thrice from the stream he drained my cup,  
  
Dipped and returned it running o'er;  
  
I drank and never thirsted more.{"  
  
Emily stood, and looked at the floor. She nodded in satisfaction. She looked at the nearest clock. It was time to go to rehearsal now.  
  
*  
  
"Mademoiselle!"  
  
Emily heard a light tenor's male voice calling for someone. She kept walking. If she didn't pick her up soon, Emma would be very angry.  
  
"Mademoiselle!"  
  
Emily opened the script to attempt to memorize the first few opening chorus lines.  
  
"Mademoiselle!"  
  
Whoever this man was calling to, Emily wished she's answer him; it was hard to memorize with that on-going call.  
  
A hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Mademoiselle." Said the person who had their hand on her shoulder.  
  
Emily looked surprised at him.  
  
"Oh...um, yes?"  
  
"I apologize to bother you, Mademoiselle, but I heard you singing."  
  
Emily tilted her head. How had he heard her past all the rest of the voices?  
  
/Then again,/ Emily thought, / Reyer ^ did ^ have me sing half those lines by myself. Was it really necessary to point out all my mistakes to everyone?/  
  
"Oh." Emily said.  
  
"You have a beautiful voice."  
  
Emily blinked. Did she?  
  
The man that had stopped her had messy light blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes. His skin was lightly tanned (he must have worked outside most of the time), and he was roughly six feet tall. His eyes had an odd warm tone to them.  
  
"Um...thank you."  
  
"May I have your name?"  
  
"My name? Emily. Emily Lamb."  
  
"A pleasure. I am James O'Hara."  
  
"Ummm...yes. Well, I must be leaving now."  
  
"Oh. Well, may I speak with you again sometime?"  
  
Emily was very confused. What did the man want? Why did he want to speak with her again?  
  
"Well...yes, certainly."  
  
"Goodbye, then."  
  
"Yes. Goodbye."  
  
~  
  
Sorry, but I've run out of inspiration. I can't think of much more to add.  
  
And, yes, I realize I stole Scarlet O'Hara's name, but I've started reading Gone With The Wind, and I couldn't find a suitable name, so I just used that one.  
  
Please Review!  
  
Roses,  
  
PhantomessAbigail 


	9. Authors Note

A/n:  
  
Wow! Thank you very much everyone! I'm most likely not supposed to do this, but oh, well.  
  
I have found that I forgot to list the author of A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief. It is James Montgomery and the music was written by George Coles.  
  
First of all:  
  
"A girl and her muses:  
  
O Hara? HAHAHAHHAA! Good pun ^_^ Wowies, I saw POTO two nights ago, IT WAS BEAUTIFUL! I loved it ^_^ Update soon! TeeHee, the people who love you the most are your stalkers. ^_^ I thought that after the play, it's so true! Just like how I stalk my bishonen ^_^ teehee"  
  
A girl and her muses,  
  
Thank you very much for the review! I'm afraid you've seen into my work better then I have (not a surprise). Where's the pun? Congrats on seeing the Phantom of the Opera, lucky you. I haven't seen it (yet).  
  
"Stemwinder  
  
Abigail, Abigail, Abigail . . . Can we say little bit of a cliffie there? Ikes! How is Erik going to take this James sniffing around Emily's skirts? I like the fact that he wants to be friends with her . . . friendship can lead many places. I re-read the whole story to bring myself up to speed with the latest chapters. You pick out some beautiful lyrics. Erik isn't too far OOC (Close enough to canon that we can label it character development, lol. IE, any one event can change slight things in a character's outlook, as people grow over time and develop) And I rather like this developing Erik! Can't wait to see him run into Emily again. Anyways, methinks it's time for a new chapter? (Hint hint!) Oh, and Re: Deeper Than All Roses . . . if all goes well I'll have a new chapter in the next two weeks. Stemwinder"  
  
Stemwinder,  
  
Wow! Thank you very much! I'm honored that you like my phic (as of the fact that I am a HUGE fan of your phics)! Hmmm....'character development'...I think I like that idea. I shall try to write and get the next chapter up as soon as possible, though my inspiration has begun to run dry. I can't wait for your next chapter!  
  
"Erin  
  
This is REALLY cool...I hope your muse kicks into gear, because I like this series. Keep up the good work!"  
  
Erin,  
  
Thank you very much, Erin! I'm so glad you like it! At the moment I believe my muse (though I don't know what it is yet) must be going on vacation. Any suggestions as to how to tell it to come back? ^_^ Thank you!  
  
"irene  
  
Hi! i just read your story and i like it a lot it's pretty good!^-^ i can't wait to read the next chapter,i hope you can update soon. sincerely irene megumi"  
  
Irene,  
  
Thanks! A new reviewer...wonderful (not that I'm tired of anyone else reviewing! Not at all)! Please continue reading this phic.  
  
"Blind Mieko  
  
I like this story alot. Please countinue!"  
  
Blind Mieko,  
  
Anther new reviewer! Is it Christmas time already? ^_^ Thank you very much for your review! I hope you'll continue to like it!  
  
"Catherine Ace  
  
The song, or as I know it, is sung by Loreena McKennit (I'm not sure how to exactly spell it). This story is good, and Erik isn't OOC. Emily seems to grate a little with the flow of thigs, but that can be fixed. Other than that, it's good."  
  
Catherine Ace,  
  
Thank you very much! 'Emily seems to grate a little with the flow of things', I'm sorry, what does that mean? Well, thank you for reviewing!  
  
"Brookie  
  
I really like the story so far. You should continue with it. Later."  
  
Brookie,  
  
Either I missed you before, or the review just showed up lower on the list. Sorry if I did miss you earlier! Thank you very much for the review!  
  
Thank you to all my reviewers, again! Some of you have given me some good ideas...one of which helped me with the main plot of the story!  
  
Now, I've been editing some of my past chapters, so if any of them get mixed up, I'm sorry and I'll fix it as soon as I can. I just realized one of the chapters didn't have a song, so I had to add one. So I decided to go back and edit all of my chapters. It won't change much, though.  
  
Well, I'll be off now. I need to go and pack; we're heading home soon. Though we are going to be moving out to another state, so I'll be very busy. That on top of the fact that my must has left, it may be a while before the next chapter, but I'll try. Let me know of any ideas you might have!  
  
I can't believe I have over 20 reviews. Thank you so much everyone!  
  
Roses,  
  
PhantomessAbigail 


	10. Scatter Sunshine

A/n:  
  
Well, I have some very small amount of time on my hands, and no new ideas as of yet, so this chapter will be rather short.  
  
Disclaimer : I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor do I own Scatter Sunshine.  
  
I do not know who owns Phantom, so I shall simply say that right will always belong to Gaston Leroux. Scatter Sunshine was written by Lanta Wilson Smith and Edwin O. Excell wrote the music. Once again, this is found in the LDS hymnbook. I've only been using that lately since I cannot find any good lyrics that I do not wish to save for later.  
  
Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you all you who have reviewed, please continue to review. And everyone who hasn't: R/R, please!  
  
Enjoy!  
  
~  
  
Chapter Eight: Scatter Sunshine  
  
WHERE WAS EMILY? If Emily didn't show up soon, Emma would be very mad!  
  
"I WANT EMILY!" Emma shouted, looking out of her cousin's window.  
  
"Well, she'll be here soon. I know! How about we sing?"  
  
"I WANT EMILY!"  
  
"Please, Emma?"  
  
Emma thought for a while.  
  
"Okay." She hopped away from the window and sat in Mary's lap.  
  
"How about your old favorite song 'Scatter Sunshine'?"  
  
"Ummm...alright."  
  
"What verses do you want to sing?"  
  
"Ummm...all of 'em!"  
  
"Okay, then.  
  
And they began to sing together.  
  
"} In a world where sorrow  
  
Ever will be known,  
  
Where are found the needy  
  
And the sad and lone,  
  
How much joy and comfort  
  
You can all bestow,  
  
If you scatter sunshine  
  
Ev'rywhere you go.  
  
Scatter sunshine all along your way.  
  
Cheer and bless and brighten ev'ry passing day.  
  
"} Slightest actions often  
  
Meet the sorest needs,  
  
For the world wants daily  
  
Little kindly deeds.  
  
Oh, what care and sorrow  
  
You may help remove,  
  
With your songs and courage,  
  
Sympathy and love.  
  
Scatter sunshine all along your way.  
  
Cheer and bless and brighten ev'ry passing day.  
  
"} When the days are gloomy,  
  
Sing some happy song;  
  
Meet the world's repining  
  
With a courage strong.  
  
Go with faith undaunted  
  
Thru the ills of life;  
  
Scatter smiles and sunshine  
  
O'er its toil and strife.  
  
Scatter sunshine all along your way.  
  
Cheer and bless and brighten ev'ry passing day.{"  
  
Knock, knock, knock.  
  
"Em'ly!" Emma shouted and ran over and swung the door open.  
  
"Hi, Emma. Thanks for watching her, Mary."  
  
"No problem. Next time, don't be late picking her up. She got really upset."  
  
"Oh! I'm sorry. Goodbye, Mary."  
  
"Goodbye, Emily."  
  
Emily and Emma stepped out and closed the door.  
  
"Why /were/ you late, Emily?"  
  
"I-" Emily paused. "Well, a man wanted to speak with me."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What was he like?"  
  
Emily sighed. That was exactly the kind of question Emma would ask.  
  
"Well...he was...very nice."  
  
"What's his name?"  
  
"James O'Hara."  
  
"Are you going to see him again?"  
  
"I believe I will."  
  
"How old was he?"  
  
"Emma, I don't know."  
  
"Does he like you?"  
  
Emily bent over and picked Emma up.  
  
"Okay, I think that's enough questions for now.  
  
"But did he?"  
  
"Emma."  
  
"Did he?"  
  
Emily sighed. It would be a very long walk home.  
  
"Did he?"  
  
~  
  
Thank you for reading this. I hope it's alright. I know it's very short, I'll try to make the next chapter longer.  
  
This chapter is for RubyMoon2, whose mother is having brain surgery soon. I hope all goes well!  
  
Please, Review, everyone.  
  
Roses,  
  
PhantomessAbigail 


	11. May It Be

A/n: Well, I'm coming out of hiding now. I've been busy with the move and normal life and my soon-to-be Michael series; I haven't had much time for this. Around Christmas I wrote up a chapter, but it's saved for later. I'll add it when I deem the time appropriate. Unfortunately, that means it won't be out around Christmas (considering the next ones a year away). So I'll just be keeping the spirit alive. I had to write my own program for it, too.  
  
Anyway, I'd like to thank all my reviewers: THANK YOU! And thank you to my continuous: Thank you AquaMoon and thank you Erin. Also big thank-yous to The Phantom Parisienne and Stemwinder for the help. And a huge thank you to RubyMoon2 for helping me find songs and such.  
  
I would also like to thank my Thesaurus. It's 'Roget's II' office edition, if that matters.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. Gaston Leroux does.  
  
I do not own 'May It Be'. I don't know who does. It's sung by Enya.  
  
Enjoy.  
  
~  
  
Chapter Ten: May It Be  
  
~~~~~~A WEEK LATER~~~~~~  
  
Emily sighed while standing, listening to Carlotta utterly destroy the song. She was sorely tempted to cover her ears.  
  
Indeed, it was a beautiful song.  
  
Emily thought back to James O'Hara. He'd talked to her a few times since they'd met. It was never about anything much, about the weather, how the Opera was doing, how she was. Emily hadn't learned much about this man, he seemed to care more to hear about her then talk about himself. It was a little odd; no man had ever seemed to want to talk to her, other then the man she has taken home-Erik-but who else was he going to talk to while he had been there?  
  
Emily sighed as M. Reyer told the choir which part they were to rehearse now, and as he announced that there would be longer rehearsals as result that the Opera was coming soon and that none of them were ready for the opening night.  
  
*****  
  
"Oh, Mademoiselle Lamb!" shouted a familiar voice down the hall.  
  
"Monsieur O'Hara." Emily greeted as she paused outside her dressing-room.  
  
"How are you?" he asked her.  
  
"I am well, and you?"  
  
"Very well." He smiled. "May I ask a favor?"  
  
"And what is this favor?"  
  
"I was listening to rehearsals today and La Carlotta murdered the song, I was wondering if perhaps I could hear you sing it? I am certain you would do it better justice."  
  
"Well..." she sighed as she opened the door. "I'm not going to sing out here while the hall is crowded. Come in."  
  
He followed her inside and watched as she put her script onto the nearest table. She stood there and took in a deep breath.  
  
"Well?" James asked eagerly.  
  
"Alright." Emily said, and began.  
  
"}May it be an evening star  
  
Shines down upon you  
  
May it be when darkness falls  
  
Your heart will be true  
  
You walk a lonely road  
  
Oh! How far you are from home.  
  
"}Mornie utúlië  
  
Believe and you will find your way  
  
Mornie alantië  
  
A promise lives within you now.  
  
"}May it be the shadows call  
  
Will fly away  
  
May it be you journey on  
  
To light the day  
  
When the night is overcome  
  
You may rise to find the sun  
  
"}Mornie utúlië  
  
Believe and you will find your way  
  
Mornie alantië  
  
A promise lives within you now  
  
"}A promise lives within you now{"  
  
"Thank you very much." James said, breathless. "You have a wonderful voice."  
  
Emily blushed. "Thank you."  
  
"I apologize, but I must leave you now. I have business to attend to."  
  
"Of course. Good day, Monsieur."  
  
"Good day." He said, and left.  
  
*****  
  
/Of course she has a good voice./ Erik thought. /Anyone who knows anything about music knows that. You don't know anything else about her, do you?/ Erik paused. What was wrong with him? Was he...jealous?  
  
But that was preposterous.  
  
/All I want to do is be her friend...I should be pleased she has other friends./ but he wasn't. No, he was not pleased about it at all. He would have to act soon. Very soon.  
  
/Now, what time did she go out for her walks?/ Erik tried to recall.  
  
*****  
  
The next day James was waiting for Emily by her dressing-room.  
  
"I would like to ask another favor."  
  
"I cannot hit that note, Monsieur O'Hara."  
  
"James."  
  
Emily blushed slightly. "James. Then you must call me Emily."  
  
"Emily, then. That wasn't what I was going to ask."  
  
"Oh? Then what were you going to ask?"  
  
"I was going to ask you to dinner tonight."  
  
Emily froze. Dinner? Tonight? Where had this come from?  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I can't I have to get my little sister-"  
  
"You have a little sister?" he asked.  
  
"Oh, yes. Emma. She's five."  
  
"Ah. Do you take care of her yourself?"  
  
"Well, no. My cousin watches her when I'm here."  
  
"But other then that..."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Ah. Well, perhaps tomorrow night, then?" James asked.  
  
"What? Oh. Oh. Yes, perhaps."  
  
"Good day, Emily."  
  
"Good day, James."  
  
~~~~  
  
I hope you enjoyed it. I know it's short, but there wasn't much I could do with this chapter.  
  
Roses,  
  
PhantomessAbigail 


	12. Confusion

A/n: Hello everyone. I'm already working on the next chapter, aren't you proud of me?  
  
Well, Stemwinder, here it is. A whole chapter of what Erik thinks about James 'sniffing around Emily's skirts'. You wanted it, so I decided to write it. I'm not certain where to begin, so wish me luck. I hope it's good.  
  
I'm running out of songs to put here. I have enough for about five or six chapters, and I'm looking for more. I'd love it if someone had any ideas. If you do, could you please tell me everything you know about it? Title, who wrote it, who sung it, where it's from if from anything, perhaps where I can find the lyrics, or how to contact you if you have them? Thank you. Also, please leave your e-mail address even if you do not have the lyrics. Thank you.  
  
This chapter is going to be shorter then I hoped it would be. I apologize; perhaps the next will be longer.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. Gaston Leroux does. I believe the song 'Come Here' is from the anime Card Captor Sakura- I don't remember. An old friend sent me the lyrics and I just recently found them again. I've only changed one letter, to turn 'He' into 'She'. And I'm not certain of the tune, either. I heard it a while ago, but I can't remember now. So I'm guessing.  
  
Enjoy.  
  
~~~~  
  
Chapter Eleven: Confusion  
  
Erik quickly flipped through the pages. Where was it, where was it...he needed something decent to play and sing, something he hadn't heard recently, and there was one he haden't played in so long. Where was it...?  
  
And why did the thought that that O'Hara man was going to have dinner with Emily that night disturb him?  
  
Erik had always trusted his instincts. They had saved him more then once. And his instinct was telling him that something was off with James O'Hara.  
  
Then again, perhaps it was just jealousy telling him that.  
  
/Weakling./ said that evil voice. /Why would you, the great Phantom of the Opera, be jealous of O'Hara? Soon you shall have contact with her, as well. So there's nothing to be jealous of. Unless, of course, your in love with her./  
  
Erik ignored the voice. Where was that song? That wasn't it, nor that. Where did he put it? He threw the pile of music to the side and picked up another. It wasn't that one, was it? No...nor was it that. He'd already sung that one recently, he wanted something he was less familiar with...no, no...  
  
There it was.  
  
He put the rest of the music atop the piano, and placed the music in front of him. This song wasn't one of his favorites, but it wasn't something he'd played recently. It was a rather beautiful song. He began playing the piano to it's slow tune.  
  
"} The evening sun falls toward the plain, coloring the sky red  
  
Like a flame.  
  
The night sky is drawing the stars  
  
One by one.  
  
"} Closing my eyes, I gaze deep into my heart.  
  
"Who are you waiting for?"  
  
I'm listening to the voice  
  
That I can hear from across the horizon.  
  
"Come here."  
  
"} The shimmering wind wraps around my shoulders,  
  
As gently as a sigh.  
  
I'm gazing at someone  
  
Walking toward me from across the horizon.  
  
"Come here."  
  
"} She kicked a single shining stone.  
  
"Come here."{"  
  
Erik slowly drew in a breath.  
  
/'Closing my eyes, I gaze deep into my heart. "Who are you waiting for?"'/ Erik thought of the lyrics.  
  
He closed his eyes, and gazed deep into his heart.  
  
Surely it was simply friendship he wanted.  
  
Erik shook his head and opened his eyes again. He was being ridiculous. Of course it was. Couldn't he read his own emotions?  
  
James O'Hara. He may become a problem.  
  
/Why? Isn't it just friendship you want?/ The voice said.  
  
Of course it was. Erik didn't know why he had thought O'Hara would become a problem.  
  
For some reason he was still angry at O'Hara. There couldn't be a reason why.  
  
/Unless, of course, you're in love with her./ the voice repeated itself.  
  
Of course he wasn't in love with her. That was impossible!  
  
Wasn't it?  
  
~~~~  
  
I hope everyone enjoyed it! Was that good enough, Stemwinder? I hope I did a good job with it. It didn't turn out at well as I'd hoped, but I couldn't find a song that fit what I was looking for, and it threw the chapter off a bit.  
  
Roses,  
  
PhantomessAbigail 


	13. The Dinner and the Note

A/n: I've decided to knuckle down and work. I'm already working on the next chapter the same night I wrote the last. ::sighs:: I don't have much time to write anymore.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. Gaston Leroux does. The song is another verse of 'A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief'. There are a total of 7 verses. The next four will be placed in the story, but not one after another. Does that make any sense?  
  
I'm also finished writing a story called Concrete Angel, Daddy's Hands. It's no where near as good as I as hoped it would be, but it will do. I hope everyone here will read that one, too.  
  
I've looked through my chapters recently and realized I just may have to change Emily age. If that upsets anyone, I apologize, but I simply cannot see Erik falling in love with a sixteen-year-old girl.  
  
I hope you enjoy this chapter.  
  
~~~~  
  
Chapter Twelve: The Dinner and the Note  
  
Emily was getting ready for her dinner with James. She'd asked Mary if Emma could spend the night, and Mary agreed. That would give Emily a night to herself.  
  
She finished with the dress, and went to the vanity to put on makeup. She didn't have time to go home and get ready, so she was still in her dressing room at the Opera. James had asked her to dinner before rehearsal.  
  
Emily began humming as she finished with her makeup, and started to sing as she put on her earrings.  
  
"} 'Twas night; the floods were out; it blew  
  
A winter hurricane aloof.  
  
I heard his voice abroad and flew  
  
To bid him welcome to my roof.  
  
I warmed and clothed and cheered my guest  
  
And laid him on the couch to rest;  
  
Then made the earth my bed, and seemed  
  
In Eden's garden while I dreamed.{"  
  
Emily glanced at the clock. She was late!  
  
She grabbed her purse, checked her appearance one last time in the mirror, then left.  
  
*****  
  
Erik sighed as he watched her leave the room. She looked beautiful in that dress, though the dress was quite simple. The light silver color brought out her eyes.  
  
Her voice was more beautiful then he had remembered. Then again, he had not been in full health when he had heard it before.  
  
/I owe her my life./ it occurred to Erik. Why he had never thought of that before eluded him.  
  
Erik opened the mirror and stepped out once he was certain she would not return. He left his note on the vanity table, but could not bring himself to return to his house just yet. He looked around. It was quite normal in there. Her dress had been hastily thrown onto a chair; there were brushes as well as makeup left out on the vanity table, shoes hurriedly placed away.  
  
Erik walked over to the dress and let his fingers caress the soft fabric. He was falling under a spell...  
  
No! He wasn't in love, he wasn't! He'd prove it, as well. He'd leave this room without another thought.  
  
He'd just leave.  
  
But first he'd just look around a little more...  
  
*****  
  
Emily paused to catch her breath. She ran her fingers through her hair again, then walked around the corner to face the grand staircase. At the bottom of it James waited in a fine tuxedo holding a blood-red rose. When she began down the staircase, James turned to look at her.  
  
Her golden blonde hair was down. It was shining and it curved slightly away from her face at the cheekbones, then curved back in at it reached her chin. It seemed more golden the ever.  
  
Her dress was a silver-blue, with one line of white lace around the neck. The sleeves clung to her arm until it reached the elbows, where it flared out. It went out a little at the waist, with ruffles of fabric. Two smooth pieces of fabric covered the back and left and right sides of the skirt. The fabric may have been satin- but Emily didn't know much of fabrics, and neither did James.  
  
James couldn't see it yet, but the back was cut down fairly low, with a silk ribbon tying the center of it.  
  
Her earrings were two small silver hearts, hanging to the beginning of her jaw. A string of pearls were around her neck.  
  
As she finished down the stairs James handed her the rose. She blushed and thanked him, and taking his arm, left the Opera.  
  
*****  
  
As their plates were placed in front of them, they're conversation on weather ended.  
  
Emily pushed the food around her plate with her fork, but eventually put a little of the food on it and put it into her mouth. She wasn't very hungry.  
  
"So..." James started. "You have a little sister?"  
  
"Yes." Emily answered.  
  
"How old is she?"  
  
"Five."  
  
"Mmm." He answered.  
  
"Do you have any siblings?" Emily asked after a pause.  
  
"No." he said. "How many siblings do you have?"  
  
"Three. Two of them live with my father."  
  
"And what of your Mother?"  
  
Emily paused, and drew a heart from the frost on her glass.  
  
"She's dead."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry."  
  
"It's alright." Emily looked back up and forced a smile. "What about your parents?"  
  
"They're both still living in England."  
  
"Oh." Emily said.  
  
Silence.  
  
"So you live with your younger sister?" James asked.  
  
"Yes, I do. My cousin Mary is watching her right now."  
  
"Hmm."  
  
They ate for a few minutes.  
  
"How far does your cousin live from you?" James asked.  
  
Emily found that an odd question, but answered;  
  
"Ten houses away, but I live in an area where the houses a fairly far away from each other."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes, it's on the outskirts of Paris."  
  
"Interesting."  
  
"Where are you staying?" asked James.  
  
"I'm staying at a hotel near the Opera until I find a suitable house."  
  
"Hm."  
  
A pause.  
  
"What made you interested in working at the Opera?" James asked.  
  
"I needed work and I thought that the Opera may be in need of jobs." She lied. She hated lying, but for some reason she thought she ought to leave Erik out of it.  
  
"Hmm."  
  
They ate in silence for nearly ten minutes.  
  
"If you do not mind, how did your Mother die?"  
  
Emily sipped her water in an attempt to give her more time.  
  
"I'd...rather not." She said.  
  
"Alright. I apologize for asking such a personal question."  
  
"It's alright."  
  
They paused for five minutes.  
  
"Well, shall we move on to dessert?"  
  
*****  
  
Emily walked into her dressing room and sighed. She leaned against the door for a moment and then set the rose aside, and reached for her dress when she noticed a note on her vanity.  
  
"What is this?" she wondered. She picked it up. On the front it read 'Mademoiselle Lamb' in red ink.  
  
"How did anyone get in here?" she wondered. Then again, she had left the door unlocked. She'd have to start locking it from now on. She opened the letter.  
  
'Mademoiselle Lamb,  
  
It seems our paths have crossed once again, and I am glad of it. If you do not mind, would you meet me on the roof tomorrow night at 6:00, after the Opera? Please leave a response in Box Five.  
  
Erik'  
  
Emily was shocked. She never thought she'd see that man again. She quickly wrote a response on another piece of paper, and left.  
  
~~~~~  
  
The dinner didn't go as well as I planned, but it'll do. The next chapter will be better. As well as the one after that, I promise. Please continue reading this story, even though it takes me forever to upload. ^_^  
  
Oh, and I am not certain if it's possible to go from her dressing- room to the Grand Staircase. If it isn't, let me know, please. Thank you.  
  
Roses,  
  
PhantomessAbigail 


	14. Under The Stars

I hate it when I find holes in my own story. Don't you?  
  
I had written in the last chapter that Erik haden't been in full health when he last heard Emily's voice, when he had, in fact, been around to hear 'May It Be'. One day I'll have time to go back and fix all my errors.  
  
I'm so sorry about the time it took for me to get this up. Not only was it slightly difficult to write, and with the move, but I was working on two of my original stories for fictionpress.  
  
Ready for a shameless plug? If you like this, I'd love it if you read my stories there, also under PhantomessAbigail. Ghost and Michael. I'm currently working on two other stories to turn it into a 'Michael' series.  
  
I would like to thank RubyMoon2 for help with grammar. Who knew how hard it was to choose from between 'effect' and 'affect'?  
  
Disclaimer: Another song from my hymnbook. 'Behold! A Royal Army', first two verses. I wasn't sure about the chorus, but I don't want to mess with it, so I'll keep it as it is. The text was written by Fanny J. Crosby and the music by Adam Geibel. I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. Gaston Leroux does.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Emily sat in her dressing-room, finishing an entry in her journal, when there came a knock on her door. By the time she had answered it, though, no one was there. There was a note on the floor. She opened it and found it was not a note from Erik.  
  
Emily Lamb,  
  
Please forgive my asking such a personal question last night. It was terribly rude of me. Please accept another invitation to dinner in three nights as an apology.  
  
James O'Hara  
  
Emily set the note aside. She saw nothing wrong with that. She glanced at the clock in her room. She had to get to the stage.  
  
*****  
  
"}Behold! A Royal army,  
  
With banner, sword and shield,  
  
Is marching forth to conquer  
  
On life's great battlefield.  
  
It's ranks are filled with soldiers,  
  
Untied, bold and strong,  
  
Who follow their Commander  
  
And sing their joyful song:  
  
"}Victory, victory, Thru him that redeemed us!  
  
Victory, victory, Thru Jesus Christ our Lord!  
  
Victory, victory, victory,  
  
Thru Jesus Christ our Lord!  
  
"}And now the foe advancing,  
  
that valiant host as-sails,  
  
And yet they never falter;  
  
Their courage never fails.  
  
Their Leader calls 'Be Faithful!'  
  
They pass the word along;  
  
They see his signal flashing  
  
And shout their joyful song:  
  
"}Victory, victory, Thru him that redeemed us!  
  
Victory, victory, Thru Jesus Christ, our Lord!  
  
Victory, victory, victory,  
  
Thru Jesus Christ, our Lord!{"  
  
Emily walked off the stage. Carlotta came on in order to sing 'May It Be'. Emily sighed. One last scene, then she'd rest for a while, and then see Erik again on the roof.  
  
She smiled on that thought. She was looking forward to seeing him again.  
  
*****  
  
Emily sighed as she stepped out onto the roof. She walked forward a few steps, and then looked up. The stars were beautifully bright that night, shining almost as bright as the moonlight. The air had a slight chill clinging to it, but Emily hardly minded it. Excitement welled up inside of her. In the very short time she had known Erik she had begun to consider him a friend. She could hardly wait to see him (or hear his voice) again.  
  
She walked to the furthest edge of the roof she could reach, and looked out over the city. Though it was beautiful, she had to take a step back. She had a terrible fear of heights.  
  
"Hello, Mademoiselle." An angelic voice floated across the air. Emily gasped and turned to face the owner of the voice.  
  
And she gasped softly again.  
  
She could never have guessed how tall he was. She had to tilt her head fairly far up to look into his glowing gold eyes. A full white mask seemed to glow in the darkness as well. Two white Opera gloves were covering his beautiful hands. Other then that, he was submerged in shadows.  
  
"Hello, Monsieur." Emily greeted him with a smile.  
  
"It was a wonderful performance, and you did very well."  
  
Emily smiled. "Well, thank you. But how could you tell how I did from all those other voices covering mine?"  
  
She sensed a smile. "I simply know."  
  
"Oh." She did not argue.  
  
"And how is your sister?"  
  
"Emma? She's doing very well. She's at my Cousin Mary's house at the moment."  
  
"Ah." He paused. "And how are you?"  
  
"I am doing wonderfully." She paused as she remembered something. "I assume you are the one who gave the note to the managers?"  
  
He chuckled. "I do have some.../influence/...with the managers."  
  
"Oh? May I ask how?" Emily questioned.  
  
Erik paused. "I..." Why was he hesitating to give his usual answer? That he helped build the Opera?  
  
Then again, that would give away his age...  
  
But why did he care?  
  
"I simply do." Erik said.  
  
Emily laughed. "Ah, I understand." She stifled more giggles. "You simply can do everything, can't you?"  
  
"Perhaps." Erik said, with a smile in his voice.  
  
There was a short silence. Not an uncomfortable one, as there were at the dinner with James, simply a silence that meant neither could think of anything to say, but it was alright that neither could speak, since they did not have to. It was enough just simply seeing each other again.  
  
Both were watching the stars. They were twinkling, seemingly happily. The stars seemed to be smiling, blessing these two. It was almost as if they knew something Erik and Emily did not, something that would greatly effect them both. Something good. Something that would start that night.  
  
A few moments later only one of them was watching the stars. This one was thinking deeply, trying to deny the things that would happen, things that were already destined to happen.  
  
"You left so suddenly." Emily said. It took Erik a few moments to realize what she meant.  
  
"Yes, well, I did not wish to burden you any longer."  
  
Emily smiled. "You were no burden. It was nice having someone there."  
  
"Then perhaps I should visit sometime?"  
  
"That would be very nice. Emma would like that." Emily noted.  
  
"Only Emma?"  
  
Emily blushed and smiled. "Not just Emma."  
  
Both smiled at each other. Time almost seemed to freeze. Then the thing that was destined to happen, happened.  
  
First one droplet fell. Then another. Then another, and another. Four small droplets fell. Then two raindrops. Then seven. And then it truly began to rain-lightly.  
  
"Oh." Emily said, surprised.  
  
Erik walked forward a few steps, then took Emily gently by the arm and led her underneath the statue, where it was somewhat safe from the rain.  
  
Soft thunder.  
  
"Thank you." Emily said. She looked up at him. His eyes were giving off an odd warm glow.  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
A spell was placed over them. The moment froze. The rain seemed to disappear. Only two things existed. Only they did. Not the carriages down below, nor the people running, trying to find shelter from the rain, nor the rain itself. Erik's head almost seemed-for a moment-to incline downwards. Emily felt her chin tilt upwards. Erik looked down, deep into her eyes.  
  
Surely it would not hurt, if just for a moment, just once...  
  
His head inclined downwards slightly again and-  
  
Bright lightning flashed. The rain drizzled down, now harder then before. Horses' hooves echoed upward to their ears, and the mumbled sound of voices. The moment was over, and for Emily, the feelings forgotten. They both stepped back.  
  
"I should go home. Emma will be waiting for me, and she's afraid of storms."  
  
"Yes." Erik said. "Here." He said as he removed his heavy, warm cloak from his body and wrapped it around her. At Emily's confused look, he answered- "My home is not as far away from here as yours is, and I do not need it. You may keep it."  
  
"Oh- I could not-"  
  
"You could. It is the least I can do." Erik smiled. "I do, after all, owe you my life."  
  
Emily smiled. "Thank you."  
  
"Of course. Good evening."  
  
"Good evening." Emily said, and ran out into the rain.  
  
~~~~~  
  
I hope it wasn't too bad. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with this chapter. This hadn't been what I had in mind, but it's how it came out. I'm thinking I'll have to go back and rewrite a lot, when I find the time and patience.  
  
If anyone has any ideas, they're welcome to share them. If there's anything you'd like to see, let me know. So far my ideas are basically long-term, and I need-how shall I put it?-chapter-fillers.  
  
Please review.  
  
Roses,  
  
PhantomessAbigail 


	15. Your Fault

A/n: I'm sorry for the long wait. This chapter was harder to write then I thought it would be, and I've had little time to write.  
  
I don't know if there actually would be a bed in a dressing room, so I took the liberty of adding one.  
  
I do not own the Phantom of the Opera.  
  
Chapter Eight: Your Fault  
  
~~~~  
  
Emily rolled over in bed. Thank goodness she had that day off; she couldn't get out of bed, she was so tired! She haden't slept well that night, though she didn't quite know why. She sighed. Emma would wake up soon, and she'd be hungry. She got out of bed reluctantly and slowly went down the stairs.  
  
The smell of eggs cooking on the stove, and freshly squeezed grapefruit rushed to her. Surely Emma wasn't awake yet.........  
  
"Hello there, dear sister of mine." Came an oddly cold voice.  
  
"Amy?" Emily asked, seeing her older sister.  
  
"Who else?" said her older sister by a year.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"Aren't I allowed to visit the littlest Lamb sister?" Amy asked.  
  
"Well.........yes."  
  
"Excuse me, I have to make sure those eggs don't burn." Amy said, giving Emily a look like she knew Emily had burned the pan again, and she walked back into the kitchen.  
  
There was a banging sound upstairs. Emma was coming down.  
  
"Emily.........?" Emma mumbled.  
  
"Yes, honey?" she asked as Emma began coming down the stairs.  
  
"Shouldn't you be watching the food?"  
  
"No, I am." Amy said from the kitchen. Emma glared into the kitchen.  
  
"Amy?"  
  
"Ahem?" Amy asked.  
  
"Miss Amy?" Emma said.  
  
"Yes. I decided to come for a little visit."  
  
"Oh." Emma said, frowning. "How long?"  
  
"A week, perhaps." Amy answered. "Now, if you're going to speak to me, come in here. It isn't polite to shout."  
  
"Oh." Emma said.  
  
Emily sat on the couch with a sigh. Why did Amy have to come for a visit? She was always so...uptight.  
  
"After breakfast you're going to Mary's, Emma." Amy said, walking back into the room. "And Emily and I are going to the graveyard."  
  
Emily shuddered. That was why she always called it 'visiting Mother'. Calling it going to the graveyard made her feel sick.  
  
"But...Emily said we could go to the park today." Emma said, giving a pleading look to Emily.  
  
"That was before she knew I was coming. Now, you go on upstairs and get dressed and I'll serve breakfast."  
  
"Yes, Miss Amy." Emma said, going upstairs disappointed.  
  
Amy walked back into the kitchen, Emily following.  
  
"You know, you used to be so much warmer and easy-going." Emily reminded her.  
  
"I /also/ used to have a Mother." Amy shot back, placing an egg on a plate.  
  
"...but...um...."  
  
"Emily! I need help!" Emma called from upstairs.  
  
"I'll be back." Emily sighed.  
  
*****  
  
"Can't I just come with you?" Emma asked.  
  
"No, Emma." Emily sighed. "Amy doesn't want you to."  
  
Emma pouted.  
  
"Why did she come?"  
  
"I don't know, Emma." Emily sighed. "Probably to..." she let it off. Emma was upset enough-she should at least act like she liked her sister more then she really did, and not give Emma more reason to be upset.  
  
"Can't you just talk to her? Won't she be nicer if you tell her how sad it makes you when you two talk?" Emma asked.  
  
Emily smiled faintly. She couldn't hide anything from Emma.  
  
"No, I don't think so, Emma. Come on, let's go eat breakfast."  
  
*****  
  
Amy and Emily strolled through the graveyard. Emily sincerely wished she had to work that day, or at least had an appointment. Maybe she could run into James at the graveyard. Or maybe even Erik...  
  
"Well, here she is." Amy said coldly, standing over their Mothers' grave. Emily sighed. She had to hear this every time Amy came and visited. Or anytime they saw each other, for that matter.  
  
"Yes." Emily said softly. She knelt, fighting back tears. She had trouble enough visiting the grave, and she knew what memories were going to come.  
  
"Look." Amy said, looking in the distance. "It's going to /rain./" she finished venomously. Yes, it was going to rain soon.  
  
"Amy-"  
  
Amy knelt down in front of Emily, glaring at her with her eyes on fire.  
  
"It's your fault she died! So don't you /dare/ go crying in front of me!" Amy said. Emily heard the tears building in Amy's voice, but dared not mention it. She bit her lower lip.  
  
"If you had just come home when you said you would, she wouldn't have gone out in the rain to find you! She wouldn't have gotten sick!"  
  
"Amy, please-"  
  
"Be quiet, I don't want to hear you!" Amy said, covering her ears. Emily fought back a sob.  
  
Amy continued.  
  
"It's your fault we're all alone, that Emma had to grow up with only brief memories of her mother! Your fault Father's alone! Yours!"  
  
"Amy, I was young, and-"  
  
"No excuses!" Amy uncovered her ears. "You did this! You killed her!"  
  
"No, I didn't, I-"  
  
"You may as well have!" Amy shouted as loud as she could.  
  
Rain began to fall. Emily stood. Amy continued blaming Emily as loudly as she could, but Emily had blanked it out. She wanted to run. But to where? Not the house. Amy would be back there only half an hour after Emily had gotten there. She needed more time alone then that. Not Mary's, either-she wouldn't be alone to cry.  
  
Amy didn't know Emily worked at the Opera.  
  
So Emily turned and ran-in the oncoming storm-towards the Opera.  
  
~~~~  
  
I'm sorry the chapters so short. As I said earlier, I don't have much time to write, and I'm saving the next scene for the next chapter.  
  
Well...I guess I'll see you all at the next chapter.  
  
Please review.  
  
Roses,  
  
PhantomessAbigail 


	16. Comfort

A/n: Another chapter so soon! I'm happy with how fast I updated. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, even though it's very short.  
  
I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. Gaston Leroux does. This song also comes from my hymnbook (what can I say, there are a lot of good songs there). It's written by Grace Noll Crowell, and the music is by Phillip Landgrave. It's called 'Because I Have Benn Given Much'.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Emily hid underneath the covers of her bed, crying. If only her sister hadn't come! Amy had always found something wrong with her after Mother died-including the fact that if Emily had only come home when she was supposed to, their Mother would not have gone out into the rain to get her, gotten sick, and died.  
  
She tried to sing to calm herself, a song Mother had taught her when she was three.  
  
"} Because I have...been given much....I too...must give.  
  
Because....of they great bounty, Lord,...each day I...live.  
  
I shall...divide my gifts....from thee...with ev'ry brother that I see  
  
Who....has the need...of help...from me.{"she couldn't get any further.  
  
*****  
  
Erik walked calmly down the halls of the Opera. Rehearsals were off for the day, and the only people there would be the managers and crew. Very few would have to go near the dressing rooms, which left him free to wander down the halls. It didn't matter if only one or two people saw him-he just didn't like walking down halls where he might run into a crowd of ballet rats or such.  
  
But as Erik passed Emily's room he heard the faint sound of crying. Worried, he made his way to the two-way mirror, and saw Emily buried in blankets, shaking and crying. He wanted to say something, but wasn't quite certain if he should. After all, he was hidden from sight. He sighed quietly, before the thought came to him. He walked back to her door, hesitated, then knocked.  
  
Almost two minutes later, the door opened a crack, showing Emily's tear- stained face. She gasped and her eyes widened in shock.  
  
"Monsieur Erik?" she asked softly.  
  
"Are you alright, Mademoiselle?" he asked, worried.  
  
She sniffed, and then nodded. "I'm fine. What are you doing here?"  
  
He smiled. "I was simply walking by." He answers.  
  
She smiled and laughed weakly. "Everything is 'simple' to you, isn't it?"  
  
He laughed. "I suppose so." He hesitated. "May I come in?"  
  
Emily nodded and stepped back, opening the door. He slowly stepped in. She closed the door behind him and went and sat on the bed. He took the chair from the vanity and placed it facing across from her, and sat, uninvited.  
  
"Why have you been crying?" He asked softly.  
  
"I-I..." she hesitated.  
  
"Is it personal?" he asked. She nodded. "Then do not answer."  
  
Emily sighed. She had to get this off her chest.  
  
"It's my sister."  
  
"You're sister?" he asked, confused.  
  
"She came for a visit from England. But every time she comes..." her throat closed up and she paused to breathe.  
  
"What?" he pressed gently.  
  
"She always manages to find something wrong with me. And..." she took in a deep breath, but whispered to herself, "But I suppose its true enough, I shouldn't be upset about it."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Well..."she closed her eyes and shook her head, but then stopped and opened them and answered, "When I was very young, five I think, I went to a friends house. I was told to be home before dark, but I was having so much fun I decided it wouldn't hurt if I stayed longer. It was only a few houses down, so I didn't think it would matter. But it started raining. A few hours later, my Mother, who already had a cold, walked into the rain and went to my friend's house to get me because she was worried I was kidnapped. She took off her shawl and covered me as went back. After that she became very sick. And...and she died." She paused to choke back sobs. "And it seems Amy's favorite thing to do is remind me that it was my fault Mother died."  
  
Erik sighed softly. Poor Emily. All this time thinking that because of her they had lost their Mother. It was difficult enough to lose someone you cared about. Thinking it was your fault, and at such a young age...and to have it last so long...  
  
"Emily." Erik said softly, using her first name as she began to cry again. "Emily. Listen to me." she looked up into his eyes, and his heart constricted in pain at the sight of the tears and pain and utter grief in her eyes, "It was /not/ your fault. You were young. You did not know that your Mother would get sick. If you had known chances are you may not even have left your house. She may not have even gotten ill, but there was the chance. Sometimes things happen that should not. You couldn't have known she might have died. She left the house of her own free will. She left because she was worried about you, because she loved you. Do you think she would have blamed you?"  
  
Emily sniffed. "No, but Amy said-"  
  
"You're sister just needed someone to blame. Most people will blame someone who as not at fault for a loved one dying, because it makes them feel better. It is /not/ your fault, Emily. Alright?"  
  
Emily nodded, and wiped the tears from her eyes. "When you put it that way."  
  
Erik smiled faintly. "Are you feeling better?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good. Now, where is your sister?"  
  
"I don't know. I left her at the-at the-with Mother."  
  
"And Emma?"  
  
"She's at Mary's."  
  
Erik smiled. "Well. Perhaps I ought to visit you both."  
  
Emily frowned. "Now?"  
  
"Now."  
  
Emily smiled, understanding. "Alright."  
  
Erik stood, and helped Emily up. He smiled.  
  
"Let's go."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Please review. I'm sorry it's so short, but I was working on the first chapter of my new phic, White Roses.  
  
Roses,  
  
PhantomessAbigail 


	17. Amy Lamb's Defeat

A/n: I'm back again. At least I wasn't gone as long as last time, right? I hope you enjoy this chapter.  
  
Erik is EXTREMELY out of character, unfortunately. I don't know what happened, but this chapter just didn't come out right.  
  
I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor do I own 'In Our Lovely Desert', which is (again) from my hymnbook. As you can tell, I am still in great need for lyrics. If anyone has any, please let me know. Oh, and the song is written by Eliza R. Snow, and the music by George F. Root.  
  
And one question that has been bothering me: Is Emily a Mary-Sue (or too Mary-Sueish)? I've been worrying about it, but I can't seem to decide on my own. Please let me know if she is, and what I might do to correct it.  
  
Thank you.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Emma sighed, frustrated. She was sick of this song. She used to love it, but Amy had made her sing it WAY too many times.  
  
"Again, Emma." Amy said sharply, sitting at the piano. She wasn't going to admit it was her fault Emily had run off, and still wasn't back.  
  
"But you still haven't told me where Em'ly is." Emma complained.  
  
"I told you, you have no right to know. Now, Emma. Sing it again." She started playing the music, but Emma didn't start singing.  
  
"What happened?" Emma asked stubbornly. Amy sighed and thunder roared. It was going to rain.  
  
"She decided she wanted to be alone for a while. It's not my fault if she decides to get wet." Amy said, surrendering to the five-year-olds stubbornness.  
  
"But didn't Mommy get sick in the rain?" Emma asked, scared.  
  
"Yes." Amy said. She wasn't about to admit that she was getting a little worried. Their father would never forgive her if she let Emily get sick...and maybe die.  
  
"But..."  
  
"Enough, Emma. You need to practice." Amy started playing again. Emma sighed, but sung this time.  
  
"} In our lovely Deseret, Where the Saints of God have met,  
  
There's a multitude of children all around.  
  
They are generous and brave; they have precious souls to save;  
  
They must listen and obey the gospel's sound.  
  
Hark! hark! hark! 'tis children's music- Children's voices, oh, how sweet,  
  
When in innocence and love, like the angels up above,  
  
They with happy hearts and cheerful faces meet.  
  
That the children may live long And be beautiful and strong  
  
Tea and coffee and tobacco they despise,  
  
Drink no liquor and they eat But a very little meat;  
  
They are seeking to be great and good and wise.  
  
Hark! hark! hark! 'tis children's music- Children's voices, oh, how sweet,  
  
When in innocence and love, like the angels up above,  
  
They with happy hearts and cheerful faces meet.  
  
They should be instructed young How to watch and guard the tongue,  
  
And their tempers train and evil passions bind;  
  
They should always be polite, and treat everybody right,  
  
And in ev'ry place be affable and kind.  
  
Hark! hark! hark! 'tis children's music- Children's voices, oh, how sweet,  
  
When in innocence and love, like the angels up above,  
  
They with happy hearts and cheerful faces meet.  
  
They must not forget to pray, Night and morning ev'ry day,  
  
For the Lord to keep them safe from ev'ry ill,  
  
And assist them to do right, that with all their mind and might,  
  
They may love him and may learn to do his will.{"  
  
Emma stopped suddenly when the door opened and Emily stepped in, a little wet, wearing a black cloak that didn't belong to her.  
  
"Emily," Amy started. "It's about time. Where were you? You were maki-" Amy stopped speaking as Erik stepped in. "Who are you?" she demanded, standing up, her hands on her waist and her eyes glaring at Erik.  
  
He found it amusing, seeing such a small woman trying to give him a scolding glare with squinting brown eyes, and light brown hair falling into her face.  
  
"I am Erik." He answered simply, amusement obvious in his voice. He swore she almost growled.  
  
"Well, /Erik/, why do you know Emily?" Amy demanded to know.  
  
Erik noted the use of 'why' over 'how'.  
  
"She saved my life." He said, almost smiling at the look of shock and surprise on Amy's face.  
  
"You...she..." Amy stuttered, then regained control of herself. "Well. What are you doing here?"  
  
"I came to visit Emma, of course." He said, smiling at Emma, who squealed and ran up to give him a hug.  
  
"Erik! You're back!" she proclaimed happily.  
  
He laughed and picked her up.  
  
"Hello, Emma." He greeted. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.  
  
Amy stood there, shocked. There was nothing she could find to say. She was disgusted at this display of affection, when they were not related at all. Should this Erik marry Emily, it would be better, but Emily was never meant to marry. And what was with that mask? He must be a criminal. It was just like Emily, to trust anyone she found on the street.  
  
Erik put Emma down, glancing at Amy's disgusted gaze. He looked coldly into her eyes.  
  
"Perhaps we could speak together, alone, Mademoiselle Lamb?" Erik addressed Amy. Amy's jaw dropped.  
  
"Do you /know/ how /inappropriate/ your /absolutely ridiculous/ suggestion /is/?" Amy demanded, utterly bewildered by this man's manners. He must certainly was a criminal!  
  
Emily picked Emma up and headed upstairs. Amy started to follow, furious, but Erik took her wrist and led her to the kitchen.  
  
"What are you doing?" Amy demanded angrily.  
  
"We need to talk."  
  
"'We need to talk'?" Amy laughed. "I don't even know you."  
  
"Yes, however, I know enough about you from Emily."  
  
Amy gulped. Somehow she didn't like that idea. "Oh?" she asked.  
  
"Yes." Erik glared at her, and she shifted uncomfortably.  
  
"Well? What do you know?"  
  
"You need to stop blaming Emily for your Mother's death. You know as well as I that it could not have been her fault."  
  
Amy's fists clenched, and she stood as tall as she could (which meant very little next to Erik), her eyes on fire.  
  
"Well! I never! How DARE you presume to know so much about it!?"  
  
"Emily told me." Erik said calmly.  
  
"Then you don't know the half of it!"  
  
"When Emily was younger she went to a friend's house. She didn't come home before dark. Your mother went out in a storm to get her while she was sick, and she became even more ill and died." Erik recited.  
  
"Well..." Amy failed to find something else. "Well...then you know it IS her fault."  
  
"You are blaming her to make yourself feel better about your mother's death. But you seem to be somewhat mature enough to let go."  
  
"A-" she paused. She had nothing left to say. She couldn't think of anything to defend herself.  
  
But of course he couldn't be right.  
  
"You have to let go. Emily was very young then. She wouldn't know any better. She didn't know what would happen."  
  
"But-" Amy said weakly, and paused. He couldn't be right. Could he?  
  
"So it couldn't possibly be her fault. So stop blaming her. Alright?"  
  
"Mmm." Amy paused. But somehow, somehow she couldn't deny his voice. "Alright."  
  
Erik smiled. "Good." He walked out of the kitchen as Emma started running down the stairs again holding her newest doll.  
  
"Look, Erik! I named her Sally!"  
  
Erik smiled. "She's beautiful."  
  
Emily slowly came downstairs, just as Amy stormed up them. She gave Erik a curious look. He simply nodded reassuringly.  
  
Emily smiled.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
There is more to this visit, but you'll have to wait until the next chapter. I'm sorry. I just simply ran out of time. You'll hopefully see my next chapter soon.  
  
Forgive me for this chapter being so short, and so...unusual. It didn't come out the way I wanted it to.  
  
I don't mean to sound desperate, but I also have another phic up called White Roses. It's an E/AW, E/C. Don't understand? Read it. Trust me, it's not as bad as it sounds (or how it started, for that matter).  
  
Please leave a review.  
  
Roses,  
  
PhantomessAbigail 


	18. The Curse

Hi! Sorry its taken me so long to get another chapter up...but I've just moved to Kansas. I have a lot of moving in still left to do....but it's a step! Just like this chapter is...even if it isn't great!  
  
Enjoy....or at least try to.  
  
Chapter...I'm not certain of the number: The Curse  
  
Amy had gone upstairs long ago. Erik sat on the couch, and Emily across from him in the rocking chair as they talked. Emma played on the floor between them wit her dolls, occasionally looking up at Erik and smiling.  
  
"You've actually read /all/ of Shakespeare's works?" Emily asked, fascinated.  
  
"Yes." Erik answered.  
  
"Wow." Emily said, utterly amazed. How was that possible? ...how old was he?  
  
"Erik!" Emma shouted (with a very slight 'w' sound, as often happened when she was tired), standing up and facing him.  
  
"Yes, Emma?" Erik asked, smiling down at her.  
  
Emma folded her arms, and tilted her head slightly to the left, and scrouched up her eyebrows like she had seen so many grown-ups do when they were deep in thought.  
  
"Can you sing?" she asked. Emily's face turned red and she laughed, embaressed.  
  
"I'm sorry!" she apologized, but Erik held his hand up in a motion for her to stop.  
  
"Yes, I can." He answered Emma.  
  
Emma clapped her hands excitedly.  
  
"Can you? Will you? Please, please?" Emma begged. Erik laughed.  
  
"Certainly...if you sister does not mind?" he looked to Emily.  
  
Emily shook her head. "No, I don't mind at all." She answered.  
  
Erik stood and walked over to the piano, sitting down in front of it.  
  
Emma crawled over and then stood up right next to him, watching his hands on the keys eagerly. Emily stood and walked over, standing behind Erik.  
  
Erik played the intro, and then began to sing:  
  
"We've heard the tales since we were young  
  
Heard the songs that have been sung  
  
About an evil spell.  
  
Someone beautiful is cursed  
  
We feel sad through every verse  
  
'til a kiss and all is well.  
  
The message that no one can see  
  
Is clearer to someone like me.  
  
"There is no curse or evil spell  
  
That's worse then one we give ourselves  
  
There is no sorcerer as cruel as the proud, angry fool  
  
And yet we cry 'Life isn't fair!'  
  
Beneath out cries the truth is there  
  
The power that will break this spell we should know very well  
  
Is locked within ourselves.  
  
"Yet we'd rather blame  
  
And curse out fate then change  
  
We run from everyone to hide  
  
From the pain  
  
And all the shame.  
  
"The stories old we know it well  
  
About a wretched evil spell  
  
The power that will break this curse  
  
Oh, I know, very well  
  
Is locked within myself."   
  
"Wow...that was beautiful." Emily whispered, eventually.  
  
"Thank you." Erik said. He glanced over to where Emma had been standing. She was now half-asleep on this floor, holding her dolls close. Erik smiled down at her.  
  
"I'll take her to her room." Emily said, picking her up.  
  
"Alright." Erik said.  
  
As Emily went up the stairs, she saw a blur of someone running down the hall and into the guest room. It was Amy. Had Amy been listening the whole time?  
  
Emily tried to shrug it off, and walked to Emma's room. She walked to the bed and placed Emma on the bed. She pulled back the covers, then put Emma in the bed. She sighed, pulling the covers over Emma and wondering if she should change Emma into something better to sleep in. She decided not to, and headed downstairs.  
  
Erik was standing by the door when she got back.  
  
"Are you leaving?" she asked.  
  
Erik nodded. "Yes."  
  
Emily smiled weakly. "Oh. Well...I'll see you another time, then?"  
  
"Yes." Erik said.  
  
Emily walked across the room and opened the door for him.  
  
"Goodnight, then...."  
  
"Goodnight." He said. He paused a moment, then walked outside, where it was raining lightly.  
  
Emily sighed as she closed the door.  
  
... What was wrong with her?  
  
Sorry its so awful...but at least I got it up. Now I can start 'anew'...  
  
Please review.  
  
Roses,  
  
PhantomessAbigail 


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